


Dance of Life

by Thistlethorne



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlethorne/pseuds/Thistlethorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair are assigned to protect a dancer who is targeted by the IRA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 'Come to Your Senses 6'. 

## Dance of Life

by Caitlin Stewart

Author's disclaimer: Not Mine. Wish they were. Don't sue. Blood (and money) cannot be gotten from a turnip. 

* * *

Dance of Life  
Caitlin Stewart 

Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it is no mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself. 

Havelock Ellis 




"Ellison, Sandburg. In my office, now." Simon Banks was not one to usually raise his voice quite this loudly, but this assignment had him more irritated than most. He hated it when the mayor's office told him -- not asked -- _told_ him to put his best detective on a babysitting detail. 

Sandburg entered the office first, flopping into the first available chair. For a change, his long hair was pulled back into a tail and he looked almost presentable. He'd been reading something at the desk he shared with Ellison and his glasses were still perched on his nose, probably forgotten. 

Ellison entered a little more slowly, but sat in an unconscious imitation of his grad student partner. Jim was up to his proverbial eyeballs in a murder investigation that was growing colder by the minute. The detective was not going to like this. 

"I just got a call from the mayor's office, requesting your presence on a special assignment." 

Blair sat up a little straighter at the captain's words but Jim just looked like the beginning of a thunderstorm. "He wants you to keep your eyes on this guy." Simon threw a photo on his desk. 

Blair reached over and picked it up, eyes growing wider when he saw the image. "He's not a suspect in a case, is he?" he asked, handing the photo to Jim who just glanced at it briefly. "I refuse to believe that Michael'd be involved in anything illegal." Both Ellison and Banks looked at the younger man curiously. "We knew each other in high school. No big deal." 

Banks just shook his head. "He's not involved in anything. He's had more than his fair share of death threats made against him and the mayor would appreciate it if he wasn't killed in Cascade. He asked for you specifically, Jim." 

"But, Simon, I'm on the Henley case...." 

"Which has grown cold," Simon interrupted. "My hands are tied on this one, Jim. Sorry." He picked up a folder from the many on his desk and handed it to the detective "He's staying at the Ritz with his troupe. Rehearsals and performances are at the Palace. That's where he is now." Simon looked directly at Jim. "We tried telling him to wait for us to send you but he said his troupe needed the rehearsal time and that he wasn't going to wait. Sorry." 

"Damn." Ellison grabbed the folder and slammed the door to Banks' office open as he left. 

Blair winced at the sound, shrugged at the captain with a subdued smile on his face and then got up to follow his partner before he hurt someone. 

"Jim!" he called as he realized that the older man was headed towards the door. "Jim, come on, man, wait up." 

Jim stopped and waited, but didn't turn until Blair was next to him. He thrust the folder he was holding into Blair's hands as he went out the door. 

"There are back stage passes in here," Blair said, surprise tingeing his voice as he leafed through the folder. "God, these things are worth twenty times their weight in gold." He continued to go through the file as he walked with Jim towards the car park. "Unlimited access to the whole thing. This is going to be great." 

"What's so great about this, Sandburg?" The tone of Jim's voice caused Blair to look up at him. "I'm in the middle of important work and am now stuck on a babysitting detail with a man whose arrogance is legendary. I do _not_ need this." Jim opened up the door to his truck, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door for Blair. 

"He's not that bad, Jim," Blair said, sliding into the truck. "He's just kinda shy, man. He overcompensates for that." 

Jim just grunted, keeping his attention on the road. Blair knew better than to talk to Jim when he was in this kind of mood. The drive to the Palace was done entirely in silence, unusual for the two men. 

Blair handed one of the stage passes to Jim as he slung the other around his neck. Jim could practically feel his partner quivering with excitement. He just couldn't figure out what it was about Michael Carrick that caused this excess of excitement in Blair. 

Both men stopped in the back of the theater, listening in on the rehearsal that was in progress. Jim's eyes focused on the curley-haired blond who was dressed entirely in black, the only splash of color were the white socks he was wearing. He didn't have to turn up his hearing -- the man was speaking clearly and loudly. 

"No. Colleen, Sharon, that's not right." He was moving around the stage as he talked. "This stage is small so we compensate by being in front of the tower instead of next to it. Keep the first three steps in place and _then_ move towards each other." He moved to the front of the stage. "From the second movement. One, two,..." 

The music began and Blair saw Jim visibly flinch and then take a step back as the music poured from the tower speakers. To Blair it was just loud with a heavy bass that could be felt. To Jim it was almost agony on his sensitive ears. "I'll be right back, Chief," Jim said through clenched teeth. Blair just nodded and then turned his attention back to the two dancers on stage when Jim motioned for him to stay in the theater. 

The two women were opposites in all but beauty. One was petite with golden hair that was lighter than Michael's and the other was tall with dark hair. Blair had seen the production on the local PBS station so he knew the parts they played. He really hoped that nothing was going to happen so he could enjoy the performances and not have to worry about anything else. 

Blair started to walk down the aisle as Michael dismissed the two women and began practicing his main solo routine. 

"Mark, I want to run through this at least twice. Just put the practice tape in and you guys can take your lunch with everyone else." 

"You going to be okay on your own, Mike," a disembodied voice came over the speaker system. 

"Yeah. Cascade PD's supposed to be sending someone. I'll see you in an hour or so." 

Before the music could start Blair reached the edge of the stage. "Hey, Michael," he called out. "Long time, no see." He smiled at the dancer's astonished look. "Lookin' good, man." 

"Blair Sandburg?!" Blair just nodded. "My God, what are you doing here?" Michael jumped off the stage and pulled Blair into a hug. "I lost track of you after my folks moved us to Ireland when I was seventeen. How're you doing?" 

"Can we go somewhere a little more quiet?" Blair asked as the taped music started. "It's a long story." 

"Sure, this way." Michael guided Blair towards a side door. He stopped when the back doors opened. "Who the heck is that?" he asked, eyes widening as he took in the man striding towards them. 

"That," said Blair, "is Detective James Ellison, my partner." 

"You're a cop?" Michael looked Blair over from head to foot. "You don't look like a cop." 

"No, I'm not a cop. I'm a special observer with the Cascade PD," Blair told him as they waited for Jim to join them. "I'm working on my Ph.D. at Rainier on closed societies. Cops are a perfect example and I got permission to hang around with Jim as he's working," Blair told him, giving him the cover story that had been worked out early in their partnership. "We're sharing living space now. The place where I was living sort of got destroyed and Jim took me in." 

"Lucky you," Michael said then shut up as Jim joined them. 

"Jim, this is Michael Carrick. Michael, my partner, Jim Ellison." Blair watched both men carefully, not sure how one would react to the other. 

"Mr. Carrick," Jim said. 

"Since you're going to be hanging around, why don't you call me Michael or Mike. Mr. Carrick was my father." Michael smiled at the detective. "I realize that this may not be what you want, Detective, and believe it or not, I didn't ask to have a minder while in Cascade." He gestured towards the door he had been leading Blair to and took the two men to an office. 

"Why don't you tell me why you've been getting death threats, Michael," Jim said, settling in a chair while Blair spread out on the small couch that was available. 

Michael perched on the edge of the desk and looked down at his hands, gathering his thoughts. He finally looked up and gave the two men patiently waiting a small smile. 

"In case you couldn't tell, Detective," he began, "I'm of Irish descent. In fact, my parents moved to Ireland when I was in my teens. I was very involved in Irish dancing already, but actually being in Ireland seemed to... energize my dancing. I was winning competitions all over the world within a few years. I was asked to join touring dance companies and then finally formed my own company. While on tour, my company does more than just perform. We do a little work with local charities. 

"For example, here in Cascade some of us will be visiting the local children's hospital while others go to hospices and shelters. All the money from our performance on Saturday night will be evenly split amongst those charities. Not the profits, Detective, but every single dime we take in that night, from the ticket price to the soda at the concession stands. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." 

"Why not?" Blair asked. He was sitting forward on the couch, paying close attention to the dancer. 

"We don't like publicizing it," Michael answered. "That's one of the stipulations we have with the charities. No publicity." 

"That's no reason to want you dead, Michael," Jim said. "In fact, I would think that people would _want_ you to visit their towns if they knew that." 

"Those that do know what we do are more than happy to see us. It's my adopted country that doesn't want any part of me." 

"Ireland?" Blair asked. 

"Yup, Ireland." Michael looked down at his hands again, but this time they were clenched tight. "Three years after we moved to Ireland, my father was at a local pub. It was bombed by the IRA because it was a sometime hangout for British regulars. My father was killed instantly. Six other people were killed, including a mother and child who were passing the pub. At the age of 20, I couldn't do much except mourn for my father. Once I became a 'world figure', I could do a lot more. To put it mildly, Detective, I got very loud and very anti-IRA. It was not smiled upon by the Irish and a lot of Irish-Americans can't understand why I've 'turned against my own'. You want to know who wants me dead?" Michael got up and pulled a box out of the corner of the room and flipped the lid open. "Here you go, Detective. Some of my 'fan' mail for the last six months." The box was filled to the brim. 

Blair got up, picked a letter at random and began reading it. Jim was about to do the same when he heard his partner's heart rate increase dramatically. "Chief? You okay?" 

Blair's hand was shaking as he handed the offensive letter to Jim. "How do you live with those kind of threats?" Blair asked in a whisper. 

Michael looked at the letter that Jim was still reading. "That's one of the tame ones, Blair. Whoever that is only wants to dismember me. You should see some of the ones I got while in Boston and San Francisco." 

Jim put the letter back in the box, unaware that he was wiping the hand that had held it on his jeans in an attempt to keep the vileness of the letter off him. "Boston I understand, with the large Irish community, but why San Francisco?" 

"I hope this doesn't put you off, Detective, but a couple of the charities we worked with were HIV/AIDS related and the press found out about it somehow. Unlike the stereotype, not all the male dancers in my troupe are gay. Heck, as far as I know, only two are and they've been together since before they joined me." 

"Are you?" Jim asked before he could stop himself. Blair looked at him incredulously. "Sorry." 

Michael just smiled. "Don't be, Detective. I admire bluntness. Actually, I'm bi. The package doesn't matter as long as the feelings are real." Michael put the box back in the corner but didn't move back to his perch on the desk. "Detective, I feel very strongly that what the IRA is doing could eventually lead to destruction that makes what's happening now look like a simple purse snatching. I will _not_ stop speaking out about it. If any of my troupe have a problem with what I'm saying, they have my blessing to leave -- with one hell of a recommendation from me." He finally turned back to the room and looked Jim directly in the eye. "Not one of them have ever asked to leave, Detective. Some have even started speaking up with me -- including the Irish members of my troupe." 

It was silent in the room as Jim digested what the dancer had told him. Obviously, he'd have to change his initial perceptions of the man. Michael sat heavily on the couch next to Blair, leaning his head against the back of it. The only sound in the room came from the music that was still playing from the abandoned rehearsal. 

Blair reached over and laid a hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael cracked his eyes open to look a question at Blair. "Jim's the best Cascade has. No one'll try anything here." 

Michael snorted. "Someone _always_ tries something, Blair. More times than not, it's a childish prank... misdirected deliveries, undelivered costumes, that sort of thing. However, I've been shot at a dozen times and I've had more bomb threats than I can count. I put up a strong front for the troupe and the press, but there are times I just want to chuck the whole thing and stay in hiding for the rest of my life." 

"You do that," Jim said, looking directly at the man who'd just won his respect, "and the ones threatening you have won." 

"I know, Detective," Michael said with a weary sigh. "It's one of the reason's that I keep it up." He was suddenly smiling. "The other is that I'm too damned arrogant and stubborn to let anyone tell me what I can and can't do." 

"So your stage persona...?" 

"Is my way of thumbing my nose at the people who'd like me to fall off the face of the earth, Detective," Michael answered with a genuine smile on his face. "And besides, I _am_ good at what I do and I think I've earned the right to crow a little." 

"Michael, I think that you can call me 'Jim' since we're going to be working together for the couple of days." 

Blair's eyebrows nearly curled around to the back of his head when Jim said that. From his earlier attitude he'd figured that Jim would want to keep this as formal and impersonal as he could. Blair just shook his head at the thought of ever figuring out his partner completely. 

"So where do we begin, Jim?" Michael asked. 

"That's easy. You go back to your rehearsal, or whatever you need to do, while Blair and I snoop around." The three men stood and headed towards the door. "I'd like a list of everyone who's got back stage passes, from the members of the troupe on down." 

"I'll make sure you have that before you leave." Michael turned in time to see Jim's hands moving away from his ears. "Something wrong? 

Jim shook his head. "I have very sensitive ears and this music, while nice, is a bit much." He reached up and pulled out a special white noise earplug. "I can still hear but these muffle the worst of it." 

"Oh," Michael answered briefly, walking up the steps onto the stage. Blair and Jim stayed to watch him briefly. 

Michael closed his eyes for a few seconds and when they opened, he was instantly flying around the stage, his feet weaving an intricate counter to the music that was playing. Blair noticed that Michael had, in a fashion, zoned out much the same way that Jim did. He was totally focused on the music and how his dance fit into its rhythm. 

"Come on, Chief," Jim said, physically pulling Blair towards the back of the theater. "We have work to do." 

* * *

Blair followed Jim to the upper balcony and from there to the scaffolding that held the many lights needed to illuminate the show. Jim was just giving the area a cursory once over, just so that he would know what belonged and what would be considered out of place. He'd occasionally stop to look down at the stage and sighted as if from a gun, to get line of sight angles. 

Jim walked along a catwalk, trying to figure out where it lead to and ran into a dead end. Blair was following along behind him, keeping most of his attention on Michael on the stage and the dance that he was practicing. When Jim stopped suddenly, Blair ran right into him. Blair looked at him and noticed the almost distracted look on Jim's face. "What's up, big guy?" 

Jim held up his hand, head cocked in an attitude of listening. Then, suddenly, he was pushing Blair back towards the main area. "Get the hell back, Blair. Now!" 

Blair knew better than to argue with Jim when he used that tone of voice. Blair headed back towards the main balcony as fast as he could but it wasn't quite fast enough for Jim, who was following a step behind him. The walkway suddenly gave way and Jim was sliding down the catwalk as one end of it fell towards the chairs below. 

Blair managed to jump to the main balcony but all Jim managed was to grab onto the part of the walkway attached to the balcony before he plummeted to the ground. Blair turned expecting to see Jim right behind him and was horrified to see Jim hanging, trying to pull himself up. "Jim," he yelled as he threw himself on his stomach and reached towards his partner. 

"Blair, no. Back away, Sandburg, before this whole thing comes down and takes you with it." 

"Not without you, Jim." Blair edged closer down towards his partner, arm outstretched. "Grab my hand, damnit!" Blair's eyes locked onto Jim's and Jim knew that his young partner would not listen to him. "Come on, Jim. I _really_ hate heights." 

"Grab him, Jim. I've got him anchored." The same time Jim heard Michael's voice, Blair felt a pair of arms fasten around his waist and begin to slowly pull him back towards the balcony and safety as soon as Jim clamped his hand around Blair's wrist. Jim, trusting to the strength of the two men now anchoring him to safety, let go of the balcony. Blair and Michael slid forward a few inches before they were able to stop the inevitable slide downwards. Once the three stopped moving downwards, it was easy for Blair and Michael to pull Jim to safety. 

All three lay on the balcony floor, panting, as members of the crew and troupe, who'd just been returning from their lunch break, flooded into the balcony area. Questions of "Are you all right?" and "What happened?" bounced back and forth with no one really able to get an answer in. Once everyone calmed down and was reassured that no one had been hurt, Michael managed to convince everyone that it was time to get back to rehearsal. His glance back at Jim and Blair said that he'd want an explanation later. 

Once the balcony had cleared, Blair moved to Jim's side, looking over his shoulder as Jim looked at the connecting struts and metal fragments of the walkway still attached. After rubbing at it slightly he turned back to Blair. "No surprises here, Chief. Sabotage, and not a very well hidden job. A first week rookie would be able to figure it out." 

"Maybe whoever didn't really want to hide the fact that it was deliberate," Blair suggested. "A warning to Michael to stop what he's doing, or else?" 

"Probably," Jim murmured, looking around at the remaining walkways. "There was nothing of vital importance attached to that walkway. All the important lighting fixtures were attached to other areas of the upper scaffolding." He moved to look at it from another angle. "In fact, if the two of us hadn't been on it, it wouldn't have gone down so quickly. There would have been more than enough time for a single person to get back to safety before it fell. Whoever this is, they weren't trying to kill, just scare." 

"Well it worked, Jim. I'm plenty scared. This is not my idea of fun." 

Jim glanced at Blair with a small smile on his face. "You weren't the one hanging a couple hundred feet above the ground." Jim looked down at the troupe that was gathering on the stage, listening to what Michael was saying. "He's good. He's already calmed them down and getting them back on focus to work." After watching the troupe begin rehearsing the finale, Jim turned back to Blair. "Come on, Chief. We have work to do." 

* * *

Jim didn't find anything that looked out of place as he searched the theater that afternoon. After failing to get Blair interested in what he was doing, he told the younger man to just go sit and watch the rehearsal that was going on. Blair didn't have to be told twice. He hurried down the stairs and sat in the fourth row, dead center. Jim watched Blair from his perch in the balcony and just smiled. Sometimes Blair acted just like a kid, and this time, he was a kid in a candy store with an unlimited amount of money and no parent to say no. 

After three hours of searching, Jim joined the younger man and watched the end of the rehearsal, which basically consisted of Michael giving last minute instructions and orders to eat a light supper and be in the theater at least two hours before the scheduled beginning of the performance. As the troupe began filing out, talking amongst themselves, Michael headed directly towards the two men who'd been watching. 

"Would you like to join me for dinner? I can't promise much, but it'll be good?" he asked them. 

Blair looked towards Jim, who just nodded. 

"Great, give me ten to get changed and cleaned up a little." Michael dashed towards the backstage area and Jim and Blair headed towards the back of the theater. 

"So, what do you think of him, Jim?" Blair's face hadn't lost the grim that had appeared about ten minutes into the rehearsal. 

Jim looked pensive for a moment. "A good dancer. Hell, when it comes to endurance, he probably has me beat, Chief. Other than that arrogance of his, he's a likable enough guy." 

"Jim, that arrogance is..." 

"I know, Chief," he interrupted. "It's part of his stage persona. I hate to tell you this, but it's not _just_ a stage persona. He doesn't need that with his troupe. They know how good he is and it's still there during rehearsal. But like he said, I guess he's earned it." 

Michael came dashing down the aisle, a fistful of papers in hand. "Here's the list of people working backstage here in Cascade, Jim. I had those who are permanent members of my troupe marked. There is a good number that are just here in Cascade, though. Most of those are either connected with the theater or local celebs." 

As they walked out of the theater, Jim kept the conversation going. "Have you had anyone join you since you started touring?" 

"Nope," was the quick answer. "The dancers have all been with me since I started my tour over in Europe and most of the stage hands as well. One or two joined me on this side of the Atlantic, but they've been with me for at least five months and the threats have been going on a lot longer than that." 

"You're not making this any easier, Michael," Jim said, half joking as they got into his truck for the short ride to the hotel. "Have you any idea at all who might be doing this?" 

"I wish I did," Michael answered, glancing back at Blair, who had his arms bent on the front seat, leaning forward to be a part of the conversation. "I've gone over everyone I can think of who might have a personal grudge against me and come up blank. All I can think of is that the IRA or some splinter group of theirs really has it in for me and doesn't care about the bad publicity if I'm offed here in the States." 

Jim pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and the three men got out. "Until we either catch who's doing this or you leave Cascade, I'm going to have to request that I stay with you at all times, or one of the other officers. I really hope you don't mind?" 

"I mind, but I realize that there's nothing I can do about it, Jim. I'm used to it. Don't like it, but I'm used to it." Michael turned towards Blair. "You want to stay here at the hotel with the troupe? It'd give us time to visit." 

"I don't know, man," Blair said with obvious reluctance. "I've got classes to teach over at the university and all my notes and stuff are back at the loft." 

"I'll bring them over, Chief," Jim said, sensing instantly that his partner did want to stay with the group. "Just tell me where in that mess you call a room it is, and I'll bring everything here after tonight's performance." 

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said, his gratitude very much in evidence. "I'll just need my laptop and the books that are on the chair next to my bed. Anything else I need is at my office... Damn. How am I supposed to get to the university? No car--the Corvair's in the shop again." 

"No problem, Blair," Michael said quickly. "We've got drivers and a couple of cars available to us. I'm sure you can use one of them." 

"Great. Thanks." 

With that all settled, the three went into the hotel's restaurant and had a nice dinner. Like Michael had said, it was simple. He stuck to a salad, as did Blair, while Jim enjoyed a steak and potatoes dinner. Both of the younger man teased him about the cholesterol and fat he was consuming, but Jim managed to give back as good as he got and by the end of the dinner, while they may not have been close friends, the three were at least better acquaintances and knew that they'd get along okay for the time that Michael was there. 

* * *

Blair was backstage in Michael's dressing room while he was getting dressed for the first part of the performance and Jim was prowling around other parts of the backstage area. Michael was sitting in front of a mirror putting on his stage makeup while looking over at Blair, who was perched on the edge of the couch, watching. "So, what's the _real_ story about you and Ellison, Blair?" Michael asked, picking up the liner for his eyes. "I'm not buying that crap about 'closed societies'." 

"Androcules and the Lion, Michael. I saved his life once and now he's stuck with me," Blair said, a slight smile on his face. 

"Yeah, right. Pull the other one, Blair." Michael smiled at his friend as he checked the makeup under the harsh lights. "So, what d'ya think?" 

"I think Jim's right. You _are_ an arrogant peacock." The smile was genuine, however and Michael took the teasing in good grace. "You look good and you know it," Blair conceded. 

"Stick around after the performance, Blair?" For once, Michael looked hesitant. "I... I need to talk to you about something and it'll probably be the only time I really get to talk to you privately." 

"Sure, nothing serious is it?" Blair said, catching Michael's change in tone. 

"Perhaps," was the only answer he got as the dancer headed towards the stage. 

Blair followed him and met up with Jim just off the wings. 

"You going to watch from here, Chief?" 

"Yeah, I think so. How's it out there?" 

"Lots of eager people who are up for this, Chief." Jim watched as the dancers got into their positions and the introductory music started. "He's good, I'll grant him that, but I really don't see what all the fascination is." 

"It's primal, Jim," Blair answered, watching as the dance started. "Dance has been a way of expressing ourselves since civilization began. It's storytelling without words, so everyone understands it, even when the spoken language isn't the same. That's what Michael's troupe is doing -- telling a story through dance." Blair had to stop as Michael appeared on stage and the crowds reaction made talking and listening impossible for a few minutes. Once the sound diminished, Blair continued. "It's who we are, Jim. There's no other way to describe it." 

Jim had to agree with Blair, although he'd never do so vocally. Michael's dance did touch something deep in him that he couldn't put words to. Jim, however, ended up watching his partner more than he watched what was happening on stage and he wasn't sure that he liked what he saw, but wasn't able to say why. Blair's eyes were totally focused on Michael whenever he was on the stage. He even went back to his dressing room at the intermission and managed to be one of those helping with his quick backstage changes of costume. 

Jim's gaze was drawn back to the stage as the dance began again after the intermission. The flow of all the players with the music touched him deeply and he had to fight zoning on the action on the stage. It wasn't just one sense that was being drawn into it, but all of them. The sight of the dance, the sound of the music, the beat that he could feel, even smell and taste were there at some subliminal level. It was almost overpowering and yet was freeing at the same time. By the time the performance was over, with three ovations for the entire cast, Jim conceded that the dance did touch him on the primal level that Blair had spoken of. 

After the performance, Jim joined the troupe back at the hotel as they congratulated themselves on a job well done. Since they all knew who Jim was, he was included in the celebration. He was not surprised to find that alcohol was not part of the celebration. He soon found himself seated with Sharon, talking about the performance. She had her dark hair tied back and up to allow cool air to caress the back of her neck. Jim could hear her heart still going at an accelerated rate. 

"So, what did you think?" she asked him, taking a sip of her mineral water. 

"I thought it was wonderful. You are all very talented," Jim answered her truthfully, leaning back and scanning the room. "Is it always like this after a performance?" 

"Just the first performance in each city," she said. "After that, we settle down. It's like, we have to be accepted in each city before we feel totally comfortable, and when we're welcomed, like we were tonight, then we sort of feel at home." She noticed his eyes darting around the room. "Do you think that anyone will actually try something here?" Michael had told the troupe that Jim was the detective assigned to them in Cascade. 

"No. This would be a stupid place to try anything. I was just looking for Blair and Michael." 

"Michael's still at the theater," she said, taking another sip. 

"What?" Jim was not happy with this little piece of information and instantly got to his feet. 

"He does this after every performance," she explained. "He's on an adrenaline high. He stays behind and does.... whatever. I assume that Blair is with him. He seemed quite... taken with Michael." She smiled slightly. "Not that I blame either of them," she added, almost as an afterthought. 

"If you'll excuse me?" Jim said, without waiting for a response. He was out of the hotel before Sharon even had time to say good-bye. Within minutes he was in his truck and headed back to the theater. 

* * *

Blair sat in the front row of the almost silent theater watching Michael burn off the excess energy he had from the performance. Michael flew across the stage, performing for his audience of one his final solo from the show. He occasionally changed the steps so that he could look directly at Blair. When he did so, he smiled, but then turned inward again, focusing on the music that was playing within him. 

Blair finally got up and went up to the side of the stage, lifting himself onto it, bypassing the stairs. Blair sat on the very edge of the stage, one hand resting on the stage to feel the beat of Michael's shoes as he crossed the stage, eyes following Michael in the subdued light. As he finally stopped his dance, Michael sank to his knees, head bowed as he gulped in air to his oxygen starved lungs. Head still down, he turned to look at Blair. "What d'you think?" 

"You're wonderful," Blair said with complete honesty. He smiled at the other man. He stood and walked over to Michael, reaching down to give him a hand up. 

Michael came to his feet in one smooth movement, and found himself nose to nose with Blair. Both men just stared for a moment. Blair found himself suddenly very dry-mouthed. "You said earlier that you had something you wanted to talk to me about," he said, voice very quiet. 

Michael nodded. "I think you know what it is, don't you, Blair?" 

"Oh, man, I don't need this," Blair said, turning away from Michael. He stopped and turned when he felt Michael's hand on his arm. "Michael, I can't." 

"Why?" Michael looked at Blair, blue eyes meeting blue in understanding. "Is it because of Ellison?" 

That caused Blair to back away quickly, knocking into the scenery that was right behind him. The noise was enough that it blocked out the sound of the door opening in the back of the theater. Neither man noticed the third man entering the theater. 

"Come on, Blair. Your attraction to Ellison is as obvious as my costumes are revealing. I know it's not me you _really_ want to be with, but I'm here and I'm offering some human comfort for the time that I'm around, no strings attached." 

Blair shook his head. "I can't do that, man. It's not fair -- to any of us." 

"To whom? To me? I know the score, Blair, and it doesn't bother me. To Ellison?" Michael snorted. "Blair, I hate to tell you this, but he's oblivious to you and what you want from him." Michael moved closer to Blair who found himself trapped between the other man and the staging. "Come on, Blair. Why don't we indulge in what we both want?" Michael brought his face closer to Blair, his mouth inches from the other man's. "Just a few nights, Blair," Michael whispered, his lips brushing gently against Blair's. 

Blair whimpered, eyes closing. "Michael," he began, but was immediately silenced when Michael's mouth came down a little more forcefully. Blair gave up the fight and gave in to the man, arms coming around him and holding him tightly as their mouths came together and they lost themselves in the touch of the other. 

Jim backed away, masking himself in the shadows at the back of the theater. He thought for a moment to leave the theater and re-enter, making a little more noise so that they knew he was there. Or better yet, to leave entirely and go somewhere secluded to think about what he'd heard. Blair was in love with him? Wanted him? He'd had his encounters in the past with a few men, nothing that lasted, but enough that he knew that he was attracted to both sexes equally. He'd just never thought of Blair in that light. 

His hand just touched the door when he heard a creaking noise coming from the direction of the stage. He turned to look, and immediately realized that neither Blair nor Michael was aware of what was happening, both too caught up in the other. "Blair! Michael!" he called as he ran down the aisle towards them. "Get off the stage! NOW!" 

The two younger men broke their embrace, slightly dazed and neither moving. Jim made it to the stage and leaped onto it without reducing speed. He grabbed both men around the waist and pushed them to the ground. All three slid across the stage just as a lighting fixture fell from the staging directly above where Blair and Jim had been standing seconds before. 

Michael stared at the fallen fixture, realizing immediately that it had fallen exactly where the two of them had been standing. Blair's breath was coming in gasps, one hand clenching Jim's arm. 

"Oh, gods! Oh, gods! This is definitely _not_ cool, man." He released Jim and tried to stand on wobbly legs. "Michael, you okay, man?" 

"Yeah, fine," Michael answered quietly, turning to Jim. "How the _hell_ did you know that thing was coming down?" 

"I heard it," Jim answered, getting up after prying Blair's hand loose from his arm. "Stay here. I'll be right back." 

"Jim..." 

"I said stay here, Blair. And perhaps next time, Michael, you'll listen when I tell you that you need police protection and that I have to be with you except when you're in your room at the hotel." With that, Jim headed for the stairs leading to the upper rigging, knowing that he would find nothing there, but that he had to at least make a show of doing real police work, even when his emotions where in a termoil. 

Blair watched Jim dash away and sat on the edge of the stage, head slightly down. Michael sat next to him, turning occasionally to look at him but not saying anything. Blair finally sighed and turned to the other man. "Go ahead, you want to say something." 

"Do you think he saw us?" 

Blair just started to laugh. "Come on, man," he said once he managed to catch his breath. "We were so caught up in us we didn't even hear that thing coming loose. Hell, we didn't move until he tackled us. Yeah, he saw," Blair finished quietly. 

"Think he'll say anything about it?" For some reason, Michael looked worried, lines forming on his forehead as the worry deepened. 

"Remember that little speech you gave about the package not mattering?" Michael nodded. "Jim feels the same way. Unless we bring it up, he probably won't either." Blair turned away and whispered, knowing that the Sentinel was indubitable listening to the conversation, "Please, don't say anything, Jim. We'll talk later. I promise." 

Jim chose that moment to re-enter the stage area. "Did anyone know that you would be here, Michael?" Jim asked, checking the wires that should have been holding the fixture in place. As he ran his fingers over the ends of the cable, he could feel the grooves that spoke of it being cut, exactly like the ends that now dangled uselessly from the ceiling. 

"Everyone knows, Detective," Michael answered, deciding that politeness would probably be advisable right at that moment. "I'm in the habit of spending at least an hour at the theater after each performance." 

"Great," Jim said in a voice that meant the exact opposite. "You won't be doing that again." 

"Now wait one damn minute, Ellison," Michael came back quickly. "This is my way of winding down from a performance and I'll be damned if I'll allow anyone to dictate to me where I go and when. I will continue to do this." 

"Not while in Cascade," Jim retorted, finger forward and pressing into Michael's chest. Blair backed off from the sparks that he could almost see coming off both men. Two bantam roosters vying to be king of the barnyard -- and the worst part was Blair didn't know who he wanted to win the contest. "You will go to your hotel after every performance. If you need to burn off energy, use the ballroom at the hotel. When you are not at the hotel or here during rehearsals, either I or another officer will be with you at all times." 

"And will you wipe my arse when I go to the loo, Detective?" The sarcasm forced Blair back another step, but it only made Jim more determined. 

"If you can't do it yourself? Yes." Jim glanced over at Blair. "Are you still staying with the troupe, or are you coming home with me?" 

"I think I'd rather go home." Blair turned to Michael. "There are things that I have to take care of for classes. I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon after my office hours." 

"Then, gentlemen, I suggest we leave." Jim gestured towards the door. For some reason, as he walked past him, Blair felt like a chastised twelve-year-old, which was rather ironic since he'd never been chastised quite like this by Naomi. The ride in the car was quiet. Jim left Blair in the truck while he escorted Michael up to his suite and made sure that there was adequate protection there for him, and the rest of his troupe. Blair just slumped in the seat, grateful for the temporary reprieve. 

* * *

Michael and Jim rode to the seventh floor of the hotel, the one reserved for the dance troupe, in total silence and on opposite sides of the elevator. Eyes had met once the doors closed and neither man made a move to break that contact until the doors opened again. Michael left the elevator first, with Jim just a step behind. At the door to his room, Michael turned back to him. 

"You may not like me much right now, Detective, but I suggest that you look at the reasons for this undeserved contempt. I know it's not my lifestyle _or_ the fact that I stayed behind at the theater. If you can be truthful with yourself, I think that things may work themselves out without too much difficulty." Michael opened the door and had almost closed it, when Jim's hand stopped it. 

"What are you talking about?" he asked in genuine confusion. 

"You saw Blair and I kiss. Think about your reaction to it," was all he said as he shut the door. 

Jim stared at the closed door for a few minutes before turning back towards the elevator. He knew exactly what Michael had been talking about when he mentioned the kiss and what his _real_ reaction to it had been. It was straight from the gut. The young anthropologist had gotten under Jim's skin and wormed his way into his heart. 

And until Jim saw Blair and Michael kissing, he hadn't thought he'd had a chance in hell. With the number of women that had been in and out of the loft since Blair had moved in, Jim had thought his roommate was straight as a ruler. Jim shook his head, knowing he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Heck, he knew that his own preferences weren't known and would hardly be guessed. 

The elevator stopped and Jim got off and headed toward the door. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to tell Blair what he felt since he knew what the younger man's feelings were. But would it work? Could it work? At the very least, there was an age difference to take into consideration. And other than the Sentinel research, what did they _really_ have in common? Not a hell of a lot. 

Jim walked out of the hotel and stopped immediately, every instinct alerting him of danger. He pulled his gun out of its holster and held it at the ready as he moved closer to his truck, senses reaching out, searching for... something; he wasn't sure what. As his eyes focused on the truck, he realized what had been bothering him; a missing heartbeat. Blair wasn't in the truck. He edged closer, still scanning the parking lot around him, but he couldn't sense his roommate anywhere near. 

He opened the door to the truck, instantly knowing by smell that there had been someone there that he didn't recognize. He also smelled the distinct odor of gun oil. Thankfully, the weapon hadn't been recently discharged. Then he saw the two instant photos sitting where he had left Blair. One was of Blair and Michael on the stage of the theater kissing -- from a slightly different angle from what he'd seen. The second was of himself with Blair and Michael, all three flat on the stage, moments after the lighting fixture had crashed to the stage. On the back of the second was an address, telling him to bring Michael to a warehouse on the waterfront. 

Jim grabbed two vests, slammed the door shut and ran back into the hotel. Calling this in to Simon was the last thing on his mind. His Guide was in trouble, and Jim knew what he had to do to get him back safe. 

* * *

Blair leaned back in the truck. He had no idea what he was going to tell Jim, but he knew that he had to talk to him about what he knew Jim had seen. He had promised the older man back in the theater. He knew he'd wait until he got back to the loft, at least. Perhaps the familiarity of their home would make it easier for him to tell Jim what he had to. Not that any of this would be at all easy. _Damn,_ he thought, _why did this have to happen?_

Blair stiffened as he felt cold metal right below his right ear. "I wouldn't move if I were you, laddie." 

Blair nodded, shaking a little, but doing as he was told. 

"Now come out of the truck slowly and don't try anything and you'll probably get out of this with your skin intact." 

Blair opened the truck door and slid out, keeping his eyes forward. "Sean, take care of him for me." 

Blair stiffened, almost ready to make a break for it. 

"Don't," the accented voice said. "You won't be hurt. We just want to make sure of that." 

A blindfold was put over Blair's eyes and he felt immediately disoriented. 

"Sorry about this." 

Blair was about to ask what the man was sorry for when he felt a sharp pain in his arm and then even more disorientation and then the world around him vanished. He had time to only whisper Jim's name as he sank to the ground. 

* * *

"Where the hell are we going, Ellison?" Michael asked as he finished strapping on the vest that Jim had shoved into his hands after he'd opened the door to stop the pounding on it. Jim hadn't even given him a chance to say anything; he'd just grabbed the dancer and dragged him to the elevator. After one look at his face, Michael had decided the discretion was the better part of valor and knew better than to argue with him. 

"The waterfront," Jim answered him. "Some of your 'friends' grabbed Blair." He tossed the pictures at Michael as they got into the truck. "They want you -- they get you." 

"Now wait one minute, Ellison..." 

"Don't worry, Carrick. I won't give you to them permanently. Just long enough to get Blair back." Jim eyes were focused on the road in front of him and keeping the truck just below the speed limit so as to not be stopped by an over eager uniform. "I let these yahoos think that I'd do anything to get Blair back safe, get him free, and then get you out and, hopefully, this guy or guys in custody." 

"By yourself?! Are you daft?" Michael's slight Irish accent was suddenly stronger with the emotion that he was feeling. "What makes you think that you can take on the IRA all by yourself? If the Brit regulars can't do it, there's no way in hell that a city cop is going to." 

"Don't be too sure about that, Carrick. They're in my territory. I know this city better than any one of them." Jim pushed the pedal down a little harder once he got away from the city limits. "This is the area that I'm sworn to protect. They're interlopers here and will be dealt with." 

Michael shuddered at the look of determination on Ellison's face. This was definitely not a person that he wanted to face in a dark alley. Hell, he didn't want to face him in a well-lit alley. Ellison was just plain dangerous and he could almost feel sorry for the men who had grabbed Blair. Almost, but not quite. 

* * *

Jim pulled up to the address that he'd been given and turned off the motor. "Come on, Carrick. This'll be over soon." 

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one that the IRA wants dead." Carrick shuddered as he looked around the warehouse area. Not exactly a spot that he'd visit on his own. This place just screamed danger. "So, now what?" 

"Now we go inside and find out exactly what's going on." Jim was extending his senses as far as he could without risking a zone-out. Without Blair at his side, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to pull out of it. "Do exactly what I tell you." Jim cocked his head, trying to hear inside the warehouse in front of him. He immediately heard the very familiar sound of his Guide's heartbeat. It was rapid, but not overly so; almost as if he knew that Jim was outside. He also picked up the sound of two other heartbeats. Changing his mind on how he was going to handle this, he turned back to Michael. 

"Here's my cellular," he said, handing it to the other man after pulling it out of his jacket. "Press '4'. That'll get you Captain Banks. Tell him where we are and what's going on. And then stay here. I'm going in after Blair." 

"By yourself?!" Michael looked up at the other man. "You really are crazy, aren't you?" 

"Just determined," Jim answered. "Do what I said and then get in the truck. Stay there, no matter what you hear." Jim pulled his gun out of its holster. "And keep your head down," he said as he started towards the warehouse. 

Jim put the hand with the gun in his pocket, keeping it out of site until he needed it. He opened the door to the warehouse and walked in. The room was dark and his eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness -- even darker than the night sky outside. Even in the dim light he could see the two men. He followed the sound of Blair's heartbeat and located his partner. Blair was tied with his hands above his head to a part of the stairwell. He was gagged, but his eyes were open and locked on Jim, who was still standing in the doorway. Jim nodded once towards his partner and then stepped away from the door and into the shadows surrounding it. 

"I'm here," he called out. "Release Sandburg and I'll think of giving Carrick to you." 

"Think again, Detective," one of the men facing him said. "Bring Carrick in and then we'll release your boy to you." 

Jim slowly took his gun out of his pocket and moved silently behind some of the crates that were piled around him. "How do I know that you'll release him." 

"You don't, Detective," the second man said. "You'll have to trust us." 

"Yeah, right," Jim answered and then moved away from where he had been standing as they focused on his new location. He sighted along his gun that was now held at the ready as he continued to move, edging closer to Blair with each step. "Do you want to stop this now, or do we have to do this the hard way?" Jim ducked as they fired in his direction and quickly hit the floor and brought his gun to firing position at the same time. "Hard way it is," he murmured under his breath. 

Two shots later, both men were nursing gunshot wounds -- one in the shoulder of the arm that had held his gun and the other through his side. Jim dashed forward, keeping his eyes on them as he did so. The one with the side wound wasn't in any condition to do anything, but Jim kicked his gun to the side of the warehouse. The other was reaching for his gun with his left hand. Jim put his foot down on the man's hand then leaned down to take the gun from his hand and threw it to the side after the first gun. "Sorry, but I don't think so." 

Jim put his gun in its holster and pulled out handcuffs. He quickly snapped them on the man's wrists and then checked the first man. He was out cold and there was no chance that he would come out of it any time soon. Jim heard the distant sound of the siren's of Cascade's finest coming. Thank goodness everything seemed to be going right. 

Jim was at Blair's side a few seconds later. The young man was looking up at him with undisguised relief, unable to say a word. That caused Jim to smile. "You know, Chief, I could just let you stay right there, like that. Not a sound out of you for a while." Blair made a disgusted sound. "We have to preserve evidence, after all." 

Jim's smile was all Blair could take. He lashed out with one foot towards Jim, but missed when the detective moved back a step. Jim was able to translate the sounds coming out of Blair's covered mouth. 

"Chief, that's not at all a nice thing to say about me. After all, I was the one who found you." He smiled at the continuing sound coming from his partner. "That's not anatomically possible, Blair. Interesting, but not at all possible." 

Jim heard the slamming of car doors and Simon barking out orders. "Take it easy, Sandburg. Just give me a minute here." Jim reached into his pocket for the handcuff keys he kept there. He put his hands on Blair's as he used the key to free his Guide. "How do you keep getting into these fixes, Chief?" 

The cuffs snapped off and Blair instantly removed the gag from his mouth. He glared up at Jim and snapped, "I hang around you, Jim. Man, I _never_ had these many problems when I was just a simple grad student. Man, I was safer when surrounded by headhunters." Blair glanced over to the door as they were slammed wide open. 

"Ellison!? Sandburg! You two okay?" Simon yelled as a couple of uniforms went towards the two men on the ground. They were calling for EMT's once they saw that they'd both been shot. 

"We're fine, Simon. Just a few bruises," Jim answered. 

"Easy for you to say. Man, I feel, like, totally wasted." Blair glared at both men. "What I need is a shower. A long _hot_ one," Blair said with a significant look at Jim. 

"No problem, Chief. I think that can be arranged," Jim said with a slight smile. "What happens now, Simon?" 

"These idiots get taken to the hospital and then a holding cell. The minute Carrick called, I got in contact with the British Consulate in Seattle. They'll be extradited to Great Britain." Simon looked over at the area of the warehouse where the two IRA men were being looked over by paramedics, under the watchful eye of three of his officers. 

"Will we have to testify?" Blair asked, an almost hopeful look on his face. Perhaps this could culminate on a free trip to England. 

"Nope. Sorry, Sandburg, but you're stuck here." Simon pulled out a cigar and stuck it, unlit, in his mouth. "Personally, I can't wait to get them out of Cascade. This kind of publicity, I don't need." He turned toward the door as the two men were wheeled out on stretchers towards the waiting ambulances. "I expect to see you two in first thing in the morning. The paperwork on this one is going to be crazy." 

Blair and Jim watched as Simon left the warehouse. Jim looked around the area once more before putting his arm around Blair's shoulders. "Come on, Chief. Let's get out of here." 

"Sure, Jim," Blair answered, wondering at the easy camaraderie Jim was showing him. Yeah, Jim was a toucher, but this was more than normal, even for him. 

* * *

Michael moved away from Jim's truck as he saw the two men come out of the warehouse. He'd been a bit worried until the arrival of the Cascade PD. He watched from a safe distance as they took control of the situation, not that there had been much for them to do after Jim had entered the warehouse. It was almost as if it had been foreordained for him to deal with the IRA men sent after him and make sure that Blair was okay. 

He walked towards the two men and met them halfway between the truck and the warehouse. "Are you okay, Blair?" 

"Shaken, but not stirred, Michael," answered Blair with a grin. 

"We'll drop you at the hotel, Michael, then this one is going home and taking a long, _hot_ shower," Jim said with a grin aimed at the younger man. "You should be safe now." 

"For now," Michael said, with a soft sigh. "There will be more. Not soon, but soon enough. There's always another fanatic ready to take the place of one who's taken out of the picture." Michael headed back to truck, causing Jim and Blair to hurry to catch up. "At least things will be quiet in Cascade for the rest of my stay." 

The three men got into the truck and, for a change, there was silence during the entire drive back to the hotel. Michael stared out the window at the passing scenery, not really seeing it, but working on a new routine in his head -- one that he thought his new found friends would enjoy, in time. 

Blair's thoughts were more chaotic. For a moment, they focused on Michael and what might have been. Even now, he knew that he and Michael could enjoy their time together, giving each other a bit of human comfort. But then his thoughts would turn towards the man sitting in front of him, eyes focused on the road. No matter what Michael had said, he would have been cheating both of them if he had spent the night with Michael when it was really Jim that he wanted. 

Jim pulled up to the front door of the hotel and stopped the truck. He turned to Michael as he got out of the vehicle. "Are you going to do what you're supposed to?" he asked. 

"Straight to my room, Detective, and I will stay there until I'm picked up in the morning to go to the theater," Michael said, a definite smile on his face. "Anything else, dad?" The grin was mocking, yet friendly. 

"Get outta here," Jim said with an answering smile, hearing the muffled laughter coming from Blair who had moved to the front seat. 

"Here," Michael said, handing over the vest that he'd been given hours earlier. "I don't think that I'm going to need this anymore." He threw the vest in the back seat and slammed the door shut. "Thanks, Jim. I really owe you. Take care, Blair. See you both tomorrow." Michael turned and went into the hotel. 

As the doors closed behind him, Jim turned to Blair. "Let's go home, Chief. There are some things that I need to talk to you about." 

"Sounds good to me, Jim." Blair was going over the things that he wanted to say to Jim. It was going to be an interesting discussion. 

* * *

"Would you like a cup of tea, Blair?" Jim asked, throwing his keys into the basket next to the door. 

Blair smiled at him as he closed the door behind him. "Please," he said. 

"Okay. Look, why don't you go take that shower you wanted? It'll help you calm down a little." 

Blair walked towards the bathroom. All the excitement of the last few hours had really affected him more than he thought and he was beginning to shake. He turned back to look at Jim, who was already putting the kettle on in the kitchen, and then turned back to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he closed the door behind him. Maybe he could wash the fear away. He was just getting warm from the shower's spray, his head starting to clear, when he heard Jim call. 

"Blair? Tea's ready. I made that chamomile that you like." 

"I'm in the shower," Blair replied. "Just leave it on the table and I'll get it when I'm done." Blair stood under the shower, allowing the warm water to sluice over his body. Then he began to really shake, an after reaction from being nabbed and almost killed earlier. He knew the familiar feeling, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. He began to sob quietly, hoping that the Sentinel wouldn't hear as he got the last of the tension out of his system. It was a quiet, choked-off sort of noise, as though he'd gone into shock as he'd opened his mouth. He looked round to see what was the cause of it, but there was no gunman about to force his way into the truck. He jumped when the door to the bathroom opened. 

"Jim...?" 

"Yeah, it's me, Chief. You okay?" he said. 

"I will be," he said, but Jim could hear the slight tremor in his voice that spoke of the lingering pain. Blair got out of the shower, snagging the towel that Jim held out to him. "Give me a few minutes, man." 

"Sure thing, Chief. Don't take too long, the tea'll get cold." 

Blair just nodded and then began toweling off as he went into his room. Once dry, he slipped on a pair of sweats and then went out into the living room, one hand on a towel that continued to rub his hair dry. Jim was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but Blair knew that he wasn't really seeing it. Jim looked over as Blair walked past him towards the kitchen and the waiting tea. Blair didn't say anything about the look on Jim's face; one that spoke of his friend's pain that was evident on his face. 

"So Blair, do you want to order dinner in tonight?" Jim asked his friend, clasping a friendly arm around the young man's shoulders as Blair joined him on the couch. 

Blair tensed, then flashed him a nervous smile. "Sure Jim. Chinese?" 

Jim's rugged face mirrored instant disapproval, injected with just the perfect amount of mocking to make his friend's unease dissipate. "Ooh I don't know Blair - we've had Chinese at least once a week for the past month. Wouldn't you like to try something else?" 

"Well it depends Jim," said Blair with a slight nervous smile as he looked over at his friend. "What did you have in mind?" 

"I thought maybe pizza?" he said, smiling kindly. 

"As long as it's veggie, that's fine with me." Blair slumped a bit on the couch bringing the mug of tea to his lips and sipping at the still hot brew. Jim looked closely at the younger man, worried at the despondent sound of his voice. 

Jim got up from the couch and went to the phone, quickly ordering the pizza, not once taking his eyes off the man still sitting on the couch. He noticed the slight trembling and chose to not mention it, knowing that Blair would just brush it off. If only he could brush off his own trembling. 

Once he hung up, he went back to the couch and sat down again, this time closer to Blair, within easy touching distance. He didn't reach out immediately. "Pizza'll be here in about 45 minutes, Chief. They're really busy tonight. Do you want to talk about it?" 

"What's to talk about, Jim. I got nabbed. You came to my rescue and Michael's safe from the bad guys for a while." Blair trembled a bit and then clutched both hands around the mug. 

Jim looked at his friend closely before taking the tea gently from his hands and placing it carefully on the table. "Blair, I almost gave them Michael to get you back." 

That caught Blair's attention and his head snapped around so fast to look at Jim that the older man was afraid that he'd get whiplash. "You can't be serious?!" 

"I would have done anything to get you back, Blair. I would have killed those men." He looked down at his hands. "I would have handed them Michael on a silver platter if I had thought that it would have done any good. Since I knew that we were all dead, regardless, I did what I had to to get you out of there alive." Jim looked up and into Blair's eyes. "If I thought it would've helped, I would have let them kill me to get you out." 

"Jim," Blair whispered, eyes growing wide. For once, Blair didn't know what to say. He reached out and touched Jim's hand. "I'm not worth that." 

"No, Blair, you're worth so much more, and I sometimes wonder why you put up with me." Jim gripped Blair's hand, running his thumb over the back of Blair's hand. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you what you mean to me and I've been coming up blank." 

"You just did, Jim. You just did." Blair reached up to Jim's face and gently wiped the single tear that had fallen to the Sentinel's cheek. "How deep are your feelings, Jim?" Blair asked gently, hoping that his own feelings were reciprocated. 

Jim leaned in and brushed his lips against those of Blair, delighting in the faint salty trace of tears left there, an echo of his own tears. But there were no more tears shining in Blair's eyes now. Just desire and passion, suddenly filled the shining blue eyes, the younger man's mouth suddenly parting for Jim. Blair gave way to the tongue seeking entrance, and after a moment he thrust his forward as well, exploring the sweet delights of Jim's mouth. "I love you, Blair. Now and forever." 

Jim pulled Blair into his lap, as the younger man suddenly began to cry and shook uncontrollably as the events of the past hours caught up with him. Blair's hands reached up to grab at Jim's shoulders as he raised his head and cried "Why, Jim? Why do people hate like that -- for no reason? I've seen so much pain since I started working with you, but this...? I just don't understand this." 

"Shhh, shhh. I really don't understand it either, Chief. I just know that it's something that I have to fight against -- I have to protect the tribe, remember?" Jim soothed Blair with his voice as Blair had done so often in the past. He also soothed him with his body, rocking them both slowly on the floor. Blair's tears slowed and finally stopped, but still he clung to Jim as though looking for an anchor. 

Slowly Jim's soothing hands turned to broad sweeping caresses and Blair arched into them, leaning up to place a small kiss at the base of the older man's throat where the beat of his pulse was visible. Suddenly, desire leaped between their bodies like an electrical current. Blair's hands attacked the buttons on Jim's shirt, while he was being divested of his own cloths. When the two men each felt the draft of cool air on their exposed skin, they drew back and gazed at each other, as if asking permission of themselves. 

Jim lowered his head to brush his lips against Blair's and was pleasantly surprised when Blair clamped a hand at he back of his neck to keep him there. Blair slowly deepened the kiss, meshing teeth and lips and tangling tongues, while his hands roamed the other man's back. 

Jim tilted suddenly, throwing himself and Blair off balance to land with Blair spread out on the couch and Jim straddling his hips. 

"What's this? Is it for me?" Jim asked devilishly, reaching down to grasp the proof of Blair's desire. He slowly drew his hand up the length of the younger man's shaft and laughed softly when Blair's hips lifted, trying to follow the caress. When he lowered himself to lay over Blair, he opened his eyes and watched as the low lights flickered over Blair's trim body, and glinted off the long dark hair. 

"Please..." 

"What do you want, Blair? You'll have to tell me. I don't want to do anything that you will be uncomfortable with." 

"I want you. I want you inside of me. Now, please..." 

"We need something, Chief. I don't want to hurt you." 

"Drawer in the dresser next to my bed, Jim. Please, hurry." 

Jim chuckled as he got off the couch and headed to Blair's room. "Why don't you wait for me upstairs, Chief. I won't be a second." Blair scrambled from the couch and practically flew up the stairs. He drew the covers down the bed and turned when he heard Jim come up behind him a few seconds later. Jim had a grin on his face as he held up the tube to show his soon to be lover. He also had a condom in his hand which he gave to Blair, asking without words for the younger man to put it on him. Blair's hands shook as he opened the package and eased the condom onto Jim's hardening cock. 

As soon as he was done Blair dropped onto the bed and rolled over to present his backside to his lover. "Please..." 

He felt the soothing coolness spread around the opening to his body and those long fingers trace patterns on his back and thighs, slowly driving him crazy with want and need. 

"Jiiiimmmmmm..." he groaned, "pleeaasssse." 

Jim looked at the man kneeling in front of him, squirming with desire and felt himself lose the inhibitions that had kept him from taking this man from the moment they'd walked into the loft. He moved forward and slowly eased himself into that small tight opening, knowing that Blair would not feel pain as aroused as he was, but not wanting to cause any at all. 

Blair felt himself expand slowly and that feeling of fullness begin to overtake him. He pushed back and heard a gasp as Jim sank into him to the root. They stayed like that for a second, until the desire overcame them both and they began to move to a rhythm that only they could hear as the desire built. Blair felt himself wind tighter and tighter, until Jim reached around him and grasped his erection, pumping him in time to his thrusts. Blair exploded, followed by Jim a second later. 

They eased themselves apart, Blair sighing a bit as Jim's cock eased from his body and just lay there quietly in the afterglow. 

Blair turned and looked at Jim in the dim lights. The older man was relaxed and a small smile played at his lips. 

Then, Jim stirred and purred deep in his throat. "Hmm... you know what I could go for right now?" he asked in a drawl, tracing idle patterns on Blair's chest, a finger catching in the golden ring in the left nipple as he stared at the man now sharing his bed. 

At that moment, the doorbell rang downstairs, and Blair started to laugh. "Pizza?" he managed to gasp as Jim started to laugh as well. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. 

Epilogue  
Nine months later 

Jim closed the door behind him and tossed his keys into the basket without even looking. Blair was sitting on the couch, surrounded by books and papers, his laptop balanced on his knees but his eyes were focused on the television set \-- CNN. Jim smiled at Blair, his blue eyes concentrating on the screen through his glasses, totally oblivious to everything around him. 

Jim circled around the loft, staying out of his lover's line of sight. He didn't want Blair to realize he was there until _he_ wanted him to. Jim placed all but one piece of mail on the table as he came up behind Blair. He leaned down behind the man and blew gently into his ear. The reaction was more than Jim had expected. Paper and books went flying and the only reason that the laptop didn't slide onto the floor was Jim's quick grab. It was then that he noticed that Blair's face was streaked with tears. 

"Chief, what is it? What's happened?" Jim sat down and pulled the younger man into his arms. "It's okay, babe. Come on, talk to me here." 

Blair just wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and sobbed into his shoulder. It took a while, but finally the tears stopped and he turned his head towards the television. It was obviously a repeat of an earlier story. 

_Once again, the latest news from Dublin, Ireland. A massive explosion at the site of a benefit performance of Michael Carrick's newest production has resulted in the loss of 12 lives,_ the newscaster was reading while in the background pictures of a bombed building was being shown. _Known to have perished in the explosion were members of Mr. Carrick's dance troupe, including three technicians. Michael Carrick has been confirmed as one of the casualties. Tonight was to be the premier performance of his newest production. The IRA has taken responsibility for the bombing. More information will be passed along as it become available._

"Damn," was all Jim could say as he held his partner tighter. "I am _so_ sorry, Chief. I really like him, too, and I considered him a friend." 

"He said they'd get him eventually, Jim," Blair whispered into the older man's shoulder. "He knew that he was a target, but he wouldn't stop speaking out against the killing." 

"And I admire him for that, Blair." Jim got up and picked up a small package that he had brought up with the rest of the mail. Jim held it out to Blair. "This was in today's mail, Chief. Return address says 'Carrick'." 

Blair took the package in his hands and opened it. Inside was a video cassette and a note. "I can't believe that it arrived today. It's almost like fate. He never did tell me what the new show was about. As far as I know, he didn't tell anyone. The security around his new show was phenomenal." Blair opened note. _Dear Jim and Blair,_

I came up with this after spending time with the two of you in Cascade. Not the actual story, but the idea. Hope you like it. Michael. 

"Put it in, Chief. I want to see it." Jim sat down on the couch, moving some of Blair's paperwork out of the way so the two of them would have room. 

"I just hope it's as good as his last show." Blair gasped. "My god, this _is_ his last show. Jim, he hadn't even released anything about it to the press--not even small clips. No one knows anything about it." 

"Then let's find out about it, Chief. After we watch it, we'll get in contact with his family or someone and find out what we should do with it." 

"Maybe it can be sold as a fund raiser for his charities--like what was done with Princess Diana." 

"Sounds good to me, Blair." 

Blair put the tape in the machine, hit the play and then joined Jim on the couch, laying down and putting his head in Jim's lap. Jim stroked Blair's hair as the tape began. He smiled sadly as Michael's company logo came up and the story in dance and music began on what Jim knew was his last production. After just a few minutes, Blair sat up, leaning forward to watch the dance closer, not that getting closer to the screen would improve his view of the story. 

Jim was intrigued by the story line. It had the usual stuff that Michael had been famous for -- pounding music, costumes that revealed a lot without being indecent and dancing that was a perfection of movement. But instead of the story from his last tour, that of Good vs. Evil to win the love of a woman, this story was of friendship between warriors. The two main characters were men who had sworn brotherhood and lived and fought together. When one died in battle, the other, played by Michael, fought Death to bring his shield mate back. The final dance was the reunion of the two as they both ascended to godhood. 

"Wow," Blair said as the tape began to rewind. "Michael saw us as gods." He turned to look at Jim, a mischievous smile peaking though the grief that was still on his face. "That's something else." 

"You're something else, Chief," Jim answered, pulling Blair into his arms. "He may have seen _me_ as a god, but you -- you're more like the imp that causes the hero all sorts of problems." 

"Jim, what you said earlier. If it's okay with Michael's production company, I'd like to show this on campus to raise money for the charities that Michael's troupe visited here in Cascade." 

"Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem, Chief. It's something that I think Michael would have approved of." 

Blair's hand moved down Jim's body. "Speaking of problems, you seem to have a small problem here, Jim. You want me to take care of it for you?" Blair's hand stroked Jim's cock through the slacks he was wearing. "I need an affirmation of life, Jim. I want to remember Michael with something positive, not that," he said, pointing at the television that was once again showing the bombed theater. 

" _Small_ problem, Chief. I'll show you small." Jim answered, understanding his mate's need and standing suddenly. He caught Blair before he could fall to the floor and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and ascended the stairs to their bed 

Blair laughed as he was thrown on the bed and Jim's body fell across his. This was what life should be like -- full of joy and happiness, not the hatred they saw too often out on the streets of Cascade and that was too evident in the world and in a country that Michael had loved and died for. 

* * *

End Dance of Life. 


End file.
